Peer Reflections

Nurturing Wellness through Creativity and Compassion

Tag: tools

  • Emotional First-Aid: For Grief

    When Grief Feels Like a Sink-Hole

    Sadness—no matter the reason—can feel like a heavy blow. Like getting knocked down with the wind taken from your lungs. For some, it can feel like your heart is breaking into pieces. When grief and gloom wash over us, they can alter the way we move through daily life. (Click here to read more about sadness.)

    And yet, the world doesn’t always give us the time we need to grieve. In most workplaces, the offer is three to five days off for bereavement. But grief doesn’t follow a calendar. It doesn’t clock in and clock out. Grief can pull us into a disorienting fog—sometimes mirroring depression. There’s a fine line between the two. Grief is often temporary, while depression lingers, but the symptoms can overlap:

    • Losing interest in things we once loved
    • Changes in appetite
    • Disrupted sleep—too much or too little
    • Difficult concentrating

    Grief is Complex

    Here’s what I believe: everyone grieves in their own way and in their own time.
    If you’ve never experienced grief, it can feel impossible to navigate. How do you practice handling something you’ve never faced? The truth is, you can’t truly prepare—but you can learn and practice a few skills that might help for when the time comes.

    Even if you’ve experienced grief before, every loss is different. Each loss may hit you in a new, unexpected way. So today, I want to share a few gentle tools that can support you during those moments when it feels like you’re sinking into sadness. I want to be clear: these skills aren’t a magic fix. They won’t erase your pain or end your sadness—but they might help ease it, even just a little. The more tools you have in your emotional first aid kit, the better prepared you’ll be to weather the storm.

    Four Skills to Practice

    1. Movement

    Now, I know—when you’re curled up in bed crying, the last thing you’re thinking about is exercise. This isn’t about hitting the gym or pushing yourself to do a full workout. (Although if that’s your thing, go for it!) It doesn’t need to look like much to make a difference.

    Instead, think of movement as gentle motion with intention. A slow walk around the block. Standing outside and feeling the sun on your skin. Five minutes is better than zero. Ten minutes is better than five. Small wins matter while we are grieving. Try to notice your surroundings—look for birds, blooming flowers, or the feel of the breeze.

    You can also try stretching, yoga, or a short bike ride. Movement helps shake up stuck emotions. It reduces stress, boosts your endorphins, and offers your mind a gentle shift in focus.

    2. Journaling

    Writing can be a powerful release. Journal doesn’t need to make sense or be neat. Let it be messy, raw, real. Don’t worry about grammar or spelling.  You can journal about what happened, about your person, about what you’ve lost. You can also write about the good—the joy they brought to your life, or the lessons they left behind.

    Reflecting on positive memories might even bring a smile through the tears. Write about how your life is changing, or how you’re feeling at the moment. Let your journal hold the sorrow and the sweetness, side by side. Example:

    “It hurts to lose my friend. But before she left this earth, she taught me so much about kindness, laughter, and resilience.”

    You might be surprised what comes up when you let yourself write; grief is complex. By allowing both the hard and the good to coexist on the page, you begin to make space in your heart for both pain and peace.

    3. Connection

    Grief can make us isolate ourselves. I know that’s my pattern—I tend to be alone… a lot.
    But connection is one of the most healing things we can offer ourselves.

    Reach out to a friend—not necessarily to talk about your loss, but just to chat, to hear about their day, to remind yourself that life is still unfolding outside of sadness. It can be a breath of fresh air.

    You might also find comfort in support groups. Hearing from others who are grieving can remind you: you’re not alone. Through sharing your story, you can receive guidance and care while offering the same to others.

    Professional support is another form of connection. I know this one can be hard—it might feel vulnerable to reach out. Like, “I should be able to handle this on my own.” But asking for help is not weakness—it’s courage. It’s saying, “I’m feeling this deeply, and I need support to move through it.”

    Connection can offer new perspectives. It can open the door to healing.

    4. Distraction

    Distraction isn’t about avoiding your feelings—it’s about giving your system a break. I’ve found that doing something simple and low-effort helps lighten my emotional load, even if just for a little while. 

    It might be:

    • A puzzle or diamond dot art
    • Reorganizing a drawer
    • Watching a light-hearted show
    • Playing a silly game on your phone
    • Listening to a podcast while folding laundry

    It doesn’t have to be meaningful or productive. It just needs to give your brain a different task—something that gently interrupts the spiral of grief and gives you space to breathe. Our brain and body weren’t meant to feel everything all at once, all the time. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself permission to use distraction.

    Bridge Forward

    These skills aren’t a cure—but they can be a bridge. They can carry you through the hard moments, so you can come back to your feelings when you’re ready, rather than wearing them or being consumed. Grief is temporary, it is not designed to be worn for long periods of time, if that ends up being the case the consequences and results can be more challenging to overcome. You owe it to yourself to choose compassion and grace, there is no need to rush grief. We can change our patterns and learn to ride along with grief with grace.

  • I’m Back

    April arrived with the weight of a thousand bricks. I lacked motivation and felt a heaviness that slowly dissolved into emptiness. Yup, depression decided to join me for a time. I didn’t recognize it at first- my typical bouts of depression are usually triggered by situations or events—but this time was different.

    It crept in quietly. I worked with my therapist, and at one point he said, “Sounds like depression.” I was angry with him and disappointed in myself, which, of course, only deepened the spiral. But over time, I found acceptance. I’m not immune to life, after all. I named it, accepted it, adjusted my plans, and shifted my focus to gentle living.

    I recently ran into a friend who asked why I hadn’t been blogging. I shared that depression had visited, and May had been wild with the kids and end-of-school activities, but reassured them I was doing better and would be writing again soon. They looked at me with compassion. Then they asked something that surprised me:

    “How did you move through your depression?”

    Their question felt safe, and I found myself opening up. I shared how I transitioned into a gentle living pattern—showing up as I was for what I had to do: being a mom, doing my job, being a friend. Everything else was placed on a leveled playing field. Over those 6–8 weeks of depression, I repeated a simple mantra and focused on the bare minimum. Sure, the laundry piled up and I fell behind in a few areas, but I allowed myself to rest. I listened to my body.

    I pulled out my weighted blanket (which had been packed away for over a year). I did a few minutes of laid-back yoga. I made sure I ate when I was hungry. Showering stretched to every 3–4 days; but I was doing it.

    “Wow, you have so much strength,” my friend said.
    And it hit me; yes, I do.

    I went back to basics without losing myself. I made a softer schedule. I silenced the voice demanding perfection. I used my tools, reshaped my world, and slowly, it passed. It felt like someone flipped the light switch back on.

    I’m proud of myself.
    My passions are back.
    My smile is back.
    My motivation is back.

    I’ve been me the whole time.
    I was enough during the depression, and I remain enough now.